


To Shanshu in DC

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series, Bones (TV)
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-11
Updated: 2006-04-10
Packaged: 2018-05-31 10:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6466522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel shanshus into Seeley Booth from Bones, meets up with Wesley again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

To Shanshu in D.C.

The alarm blared. Angel reached out his hand and pressed the button wearily. Even now, it was hard to get used to the feeling of being foggy when he awoke. For so long it had been natural like the tide. Instantly awake, ready to fight, kill, protect. Being human was hard. The nagging pain in his back from a difficult arrest yesterday. Something he would have laughed off in his preternatural state. Not that he wasn’t grateful for the Shanshu, even if it returned to him by default. Spike’s death in the alley trying to protect Gunn’s broken, bleeding body. Useless in the end as Gunn was already dead. But Spike was belligerent, and refused to believe that his Charlie boy was gone. 

When the fight was over, Angel was surprised to find himself still standing. And more then a little disappointed. What was there now? He turned to the only other being left. Illyria. She stared at him with blank beautiful eyes, turned, and silently stole into the night. He never saw her again.

The Powers that Be had come upon him shortly after. A fragrant zephyr announcing their presence. Angel crossed his arms, ready for a confrontation that never came. They explained the Shanshu was his again, and that now was the time. The change was swift. Painless. Certainly anti-climatic. A wave of an otherworldly hand and Angel blacked out. He awoke in a strange bed, in a panic, fighting to breathe evenly, to not forget to breathe at all, now that it was no longer affectation. After a few frightening moments, and some lightheaded induced nausea, his body took over, and it just happened. He wandered the small apartment, trying to figure out where he was. A phone book said Washington, D.C. A calendar said that it was only a week after he had fought the epic battle in the alley in Los Angeles. Beside the bed he found a black folder. Contained inside was the paperwork that made a life, birth certificate, social security card, driver’s license, platinum MasterCard. Seeley Booth. He let the name roll off his tongue, and shrugged. It was as good as any other. A neatly written letter explained his life, his background, his job. A human equivalent to his own life. Assassin, seeking atonement. Helping the helpless via human law enforcement. It was something he could wrap his mind around, and settled into routine. Occasionally there was brilliance. The first walk in the sun. Ice cream. A constant beating heart. But mostly there was one day slipping quietly into another, as he tried to make a difference with his remaining mortal years. This wasn’t the world he pictured after the Shanshu, but perhaps all it meant was that the next Apocalypse would indeed be the last, End of Days. He was indifferent. This vacation into humanity was pleasant enough. But inside, he still felt as dead as he had ever felt as a vampire. Alone. Inquiries into the lives of people he had once cared about were a lesson in mourning, loss, and regret. He stopped following their news, did not visit the graves. He let Angel slip away, like a forgotten dream. He was Seeley Booth now, FBI agent. Cheap suits, tacky ties, government salary, take-out food, and bureaucracy. 

That morning started out like the last. Alarm. Shower. Dress. Breakfast. Check messages. Go to office. Fill out paperwork. Wait. The call came in around 10:00 a.m. A murder at Georgetown University. Two murders actually. Two unknown men were found dead in the private book archives in the university library. Booth collected his badge and gun and headed out.

A nervous woman met him at the door, fretting and fluttering about like a sparrow. He walked purposefully through the quiet rooms as she followed; explaining over and over again that nothing like this had ever happened here in all her years with the library. Booth nodded absently, spotting the throng of police, photographers and his favorite anthropologist, and headed towards the chaos. He directed the woman, Jennifer she said her name was, to a local plainclothes to take her statement. 

“What are we dealing with here, Bones?” He said, hands on his hips, taking in the scene.

“Well, it’s strange. Both these men. Seemingly healthy by all other appearances. Except for being dead. And the strange marks on their arms and chest. I think this may be drug related.” She said, nodding her head emphatically.

“What makes you say that?” He inquired, noting a lack of drug paraphernalia in the surrounding area.

“The marks, the book found near the bodies. Weird occult stuff. Only people that believe that is real are drug addicts, right? I mean, come on, magic powers?” She scoffed.

Booth gave her a flitting smile. “Let me see your report after you examine the bodies at the lab, okay?”

She agreed and went over to tell Zack to stop bothering the M.E. transport team. Booth sighed and pulled out his pad and pen to start taking notes. He was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. “Pardon me, Mr. Booth? I was told you were in charge here. I am the Head Librarian, so I thought perhaps we needed to speak?” A man inquired in a soft British accent.

Booth felt his blood run cold in his veins and turned with a jerk, his eyes flying open wide. “WES?!”

The man blinked and took a step back. He smiled in a cautious manner. “Yes. Though no one ever calls me that. Wesley W. Pryce. At your service.” He held out a hand.

Booth looked at the offered hand for a long time, making the other man shift uncomfortably, and start to drop his arm slowly. Booth shot his hand out, dropping the notepad and pen and pumped Wesley’s arm up and down. After a few moments Wesley graciously pulled his hand away, rubbing it anxiously along his trousers, looking as if he was sure he had actually gone up to speak to a madman, not an FBI agent. Booth tried to gather himself. His head was spinning. What the fuck was going on? Why was Wes here? And alive? What happened? He looked him up and down, taking in details. No scar along his throat. Dark suit. Matching tie and handkerchief. Wired spectacles. Fragile smile. Innocent eyes. Deep and blue and unhardened by grief. Free of memories of Angel. Wesley was not the man he was, the man who died gladly to free himself from sorrow.

“So, yeah, we should talk.” Booth started, finding his voice. He gripped the other man’s arm, pulling him aside, down into the stacks where it was quieter. He flashed his badge, letting Wes’ eyes read the official stamp, and watched his shoulders relax. 

“To begin with, Mr. Booth, no one was on duty last evening at the time the crime was committed. The library was closed. The section the book was stolen from was locked. It’s a book on spell casting. Very old, rare, quite valuable. Do you…do you believe in the supernatural Mr. Booth?” Wesley asked, adjusting his glasses as he got ready to explain.

Booth gave him a lopsided grin. “Yeah, actually, I do.”

Wesley frowned slightly at the man’s jocular humor at a crime scene but tried to politely cover his confusion. “Well as you can see, I have little I can tell you, except that it is my belief that these men were trying to one up each other with a magic spell, things got out of hand, and they both ended up dead. I would ask that you be sure your officers are careful with the volume and it be returned as soon as possible. It has more power in it then they comprehend, and must be carefully stored.” 

Booth nodded agreeably. “I understand. I promise we‘ll get it back to you in one piece. Okay?”

Wesley smiled. “Well, this has gone better then I imagined. I see you are a kindred spirit Mr. Booth, it’s rather nice. I’ve missed the company of such a creature for awhile now. Not since I was home in England. The place I was employed at unfortunately no longer exists in its previous incarnation and I had to find other opportunities. A friend of mine put in a good word for me here and I came to America a few years ago.” He wasn’t sure why he was telling a perfect stranger personal information about himself, but a part of him felt very comfortable with the law man. 

Booth listened avidly, drinking in every syllable. His Wes. God he had missed him. So damned much it was like a hole in his heart. He had to figure out how this had come to pass. He was sure the man in front of him didn’t know. And he was also sure as hell not going to share with him the information he did have on his tragic life and death. “Mr. Pryce…Wesley…I appreciate your time. An officer will have to take your statement.“

Wesley nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Booth. It was nice to meet you.” He lifted his hand to shake goodbye.

Booth slipped his hand into Wesley’s, running his thumb over the back of his hand, relishing the warmth. “The pleasure was all mine. And please, call me Seeley.”

Wesley dropped his gaze, a high blush on his cheeks. Booth bit his lip nervously, not wanting to let Wesley’s hand go. This time it had to be different. Somehow he had a second chance not only at life, but with Wes, and he wasn’t going to screw it up. He leaned closer, almost whispering in the man’s ear, hearing his breath catch in his throat as the words squeezed from his tight chest. “How would you like to come over to my place for dinner?”

To be continued…


	2. two

To Shanshu in D.C. - Part 2

Wesley knocked on the door with a slight air of trepidation. He had struggled with what would be the appropriate gift to bring. Wine originally seemed right, or it did years ago, but now with people so self conscious about such things, Wesley decided against it. Flowers were not good, unless you were sure or your date was female. In the end he fell back on what was most comfortable, a book. 

The door opened. Wesley smiled at Booth. “Hello. I hope I’m not too early.”

Booth smiled back at him, looking relieved and grateful; as if he wasn’t sure Wesley was going to come. “No, not at all, come in.” He pulled Wesley’s arm and shut the door behind them, locking the door.

Wesley held out the book. “Thank you for inviting me to dinner.”

Booth took the book, glancing at the title. “Oh, thanks. _The Origin of Forensic Sciences_. Interesting.”

Wesley nodded. “Yes, quite. It all began with a shovel actually. Fascinating story.”

Booth grinned at him. “I always loved your enthusiasm for research Wes, it lights up your eyes.”

Wesley’s smile faltered slightly. “Always?”

Booth shook his head. “I mean, probably always, like now, and the library. You know, just a guess.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, let me take your coat, would you like a drink?”

Wesley shrugged off his jacket and followed Booth through the living room into the kitchen/dining room area. “If you are having one.” He replied.

Booth opened a cabinet above the sink and took out a bottle of red wine. “It’s not blood, don’t worry.” He joked.

Wesley laughed. “Why would I think it was?”

Booth grabbed the wine opener out of the drawer. “Erm…no reason, I guess.” He poured two glasses of wine, reminding himself that he had to stop making these mistakes. He wasn’t Angel anymore and this wasn’t his Wesley. All he was doing was screwing up the date. 

He handed Wesley the glass of wine and clinked glasses. “Slainte.” 

“Slainte.” Wesley said back, taking a small sip. “I didn’t know you were Irish. That is a Gaelic toast, correct?”

Booth nodded. “Yep. Some Irish, way back in my gene pool. But don’t hold that against me, okay?”

Wesley took another sip, starting to feel a little more relaxed. “I promise. Despite being British, I shall strive to resist the urge to smite you.”

Booth laughed and turned to stir the pasta in the pot. “I appreciate that. I don’t enjoy smiting before dinner.”

“Can I help?” Wesley offered. 

“Um…well, if you want to, sure. Salad is in the fridge, you can cut the bread too if you want.” Booth replied, enjoying this simple time together, watching Wesley move about the kitchen. He shut off the stove and poured the boiling water down the sink drain, placing the pasta in a bowl and topping it with the sauce and meatballs. “I hope you like this, I should have asked. But I’ve come to like it a lot.” 

Wesley brought the salad and bread to the table. “I do. I’m not too fussy, no need to worry. I came more for the company then the food in any event.” He said, looking up with a shy smile.

Booth smiled back. “The company is the best part, I agree.”

They sat down. Wesley put his napkin on his lap and waited. Booth handed him the bowl of pasta and they begin serving themselves and eating.

“So, tell me about how you came into your line of work, Seeley.” Wesley inquired, looking at him curiously.

Booth told his memorized story evenly, trying to make it sound real. Wesley nodded and reacted throughout, so he supposed he was getting good at assimilating it as his own. He asked Wesley about his life story, and listened to the familiar part he knew until after Wesley was in Sunnydale. All the details were correct, except that he didn’t mention knowing Angel. Only about being fired after a brief stint as Buffy and Faith’s watcher and fighting the mayor. Afterwards he did not become a rogue demon hunter, nor did he come to work for Angel Investigations. Giles had invited him to return to England with him to work at the Watcher’s Council research library after their dismissal. Buffy was sent a new watcher. Giles and Wesley had worked together in England, became involved for a brief time in a torrid affair, and then decided their relationship worked better as friends. After the Watcher’s Council was destroyed, and Quentin Travers died, Giles had taken it upon himself to rebuild it. Wesley didn’t feel cut out for this new regime and Giles had called several universities to see if they needed a librarian. Georgetown had, and Wesley had come back to America. Booth absorbed this information quietly, making the right comments here and there. Wesley smiled at the end of his tale. “I am still quite stunned that you have knowledge of slayers, watchers, demons and such. I was quite sure it was not well known in the world at large.”

Booth took another bite of food. “Well, I don’t think it is. Not by the FBI or anything. Just something I researched myself after a couple of weird cases, you know? I have had an interest in the occult for a long time. Seems like forever in a way.”

Wesley grinned, finishing his glass of wine and nodding when Booth offered to pour another. “It’s so nice. Finally, someone to talk to about such things. I had not found anyone in Washington that showed interest beyond people that read the Weekly World News. And as fascinating as the exploits of Batboy are, he is merely a hoax.”

Booth covered his mouth full of food and chuckled. “Good to know. I can call off the search.”

When he was finished with his meal, Wesley put his napkin on the table. “I would be happy to help with the dishes. I don’t want to leave you with a big mess when I go.”

Booth frowned at the word “go”. He didn’t want Wesley to go, ever. He wanted him to stay right here, safe and protected and with him, always. But he stood, picking up his empty plate. “Sure, that would be great. I’d love some help.”

Wesley juggled a few dishes, walked into the kitchen and started the water, adding dish soap and rolling up his sleeves. He unbuckled his wristwatch and retrieved a sponge. “Ready for duty.” He announced. 

Booth brought over the dishes and cleared the table, stealing long glances at Wesley’s back as he went about the task with his usual efficiency. He thought that he would enjoy looking at Wes doing this all the time. Hell of a lot better then looking at him bleeding, hurt, eyes blank with loss and grief. He remembered when he left the Georgetown library after asking Wesley to dinner, walking aimlessly for almost an hour, thinking back over the years with Wesley that he alone remembered. He couldn’t figure out how the hell Wesley was alive, or why he was different. Wesley had been dead. Illyria had said so, and it was certainly confirmed when the Pryces had come to Los Angeles to have the body quickly buried. Angel had read the obituary in the paper, along with those of all his other friends. Fred was still declared “missing”. Angel knew that he should call or write the Burkles, give them some closure, but he was so lost himself, that he never had. Not until he was Booth for a time, and then had sent a telegram in an official FBI capacity. When he had gotten tired of walking, he sat down on a bench. He had to find out what was going on, if it was a trick, a spell, payback, whatever. 

He returned to his vehicle and drove to the Lincoln Memorial. Luckily, this late in the day there were few visitors. He waited for them to disperse, then slipped behind the statue of Lincoln and pressed the cool metal until he found the right spot, the space between worlds. He slipped inside, falling face forward to the marble flooring. He looked up into the disdainful faces of the Oracles. “A Mortal? Here? What is this blasphemy?” They asked angrily.

Booth stood up, holding his hands out in supplication. “It’s me, Angel, or I was, before the Shanshu. I need your help.”

The Oracles scoffed. “Help? We do not deal with your kind. Human. Weak. The smell of death is on you already mortal. We will not have discourse with you.”

Booth reached under his shirt and irritably yanked off his necklace, a pendant of Saint Michael. “Here, look. I brought an offering, okay? I just need one question answered, and I’ll never come back. I got no one else to ask.”

The Oracles looked at the offered bauble. The woman reached out to take it, smiling at the tiny figure on the gold circle. “Ask your query.”

Booth sighed in relief. “Wesley W. Pryce…why is he alive?”

The Oracles looked at each other and back at Booth. “Ah, yes. We remember. Illyria. She is why. She came upon us in the place you call Los Angeles. It seems the part of her that was Winifred Burkle grieved deeply for the human man. She dug up his mortal remains and brought them to us. We told her we did not grant new life to humans, that they have but a brief time on the planet. She was insistent. Offering threats and promises in turn. Finally a bargain was struck. Her life for his. A god for a mortal. She said she wanted him returned to a previous time, a time before his sadness. It was done. Having no memories of you, or the other you, Angel, gave him peace of heart and mind.” 

Booth nodded, trying to pretend that this was not a painful realization. The Oracles sighed in boredom. “Your question has been answered. Illyria is dead. Wesley lives. Go. Leave this place.”

Booth thanked them both and turned, a bright flash of light leaving him lying on his back on the wet cement stairs of the Lincoln Memorial. A security guard came over to question him. Booth absently flashed his credentials and returned to his car. A new start. A do over. Wesley could be his. Finally. He thanked Illyria quietly under his breath for her sacrifice and drove home. His date was tomorrow. He couldn’t wait.

Booth came out of his reverie as he heard his name being called. “What?” He asked.

Wesley was looking at him, drying his hands on a towel. “I asked if you wanted to dry the dishes or if I should leave them in the dish rack.”

Booth shrugged. “Leave them; I’ll get to it later.” He took Wesley’s hand and led him over to the sofa. “I think we are done with chores, hmm?”  
Wesley’s heart beat sped up, his comfort zone disappearing fast. “Yes, I suppose we are. What…what would you like to do?”

Booth sat down on the sofa and pulled Wesley down beside him. “Something I wanted to do since the second I saw you.” He slid his hands behind Wesley’s back and leaned towards him, brushing their mouths together softly. “Is that okay?” He whispered.

Wesley swallowed hard. “Yes.” He replied in a barely audible voice. “Very okay.”

That was all Booth needed to hear. He pressed another kiss against Wesley’s lips, eagerly exploring his mouth, running his hands up Wesley’s back, then back down, and tugging his shirt out of his pants. “You feel so good.” He moaned against Wesley’s throat, his hands working at Wesley’s tie. “I wanted this for so long Wes! So damned long!”

Wesley pulled his fingers through Booth’s hair, tugging it with excitement, panting in his ear. “Two days isn’t so long.” He noted. “But this does feel wonderful.”

Booth discarded the necktie on the floor carelessly and went to work on Wesley’s shirt buttons. “Feels like years, Wes.” He moaned, pushing Wesley back on the sofa and kissing down over his chest, capturing a nipple between his teeth and sucking hard. 

Wesley’s body surged up against him. “Oh my God, Seeley, this is insane, I should stop…“ Booth paused. Wesley whimpered. “No! Don’t stop, please, just ignore me, don’t stop!” He begged. 

Booth grinned at him. “Wouldn’t dream of stopping.” He tugged at Wesley’s belt buckle, snaking it through the loops and adding it to the necktie on the floor. He unbuttoned and unzipped Wesley’s trousers, slipping his hand inside, groaning at how hard Wesley was already. “I have to taste you, Wes.” 

Wesley panted breathlessly, yelping as Booth’s warm, wet tongue licked over the tip of his erection. “Seeley! God, yes! Yes!” 

Booth continued his ministrations languidly; enjoying Wesley’s frenzied reaction immensely. Wesley babbled his name over and over, begging for Seeley to stop teasing him and take him all the way in this mouth. Booth gave another long lick and smirked up at him wickedly. “Say please. Please Angel.”

Wesley gave him a wry smile. “Please Angel? Is this a game? Are you going to call me Juan or Bob perhaps? Alright. Please Angel, please before I have a heart attack.”

Booth blinked, mentally pissed off at himself for his stupid error, and equally pissed off that Wesley thought it was a game. He knew it was unreasonable, but it was there, and it spoiled the mood. He shifted back up and kissed Wesley on the lips softly. “Say it again Wesley. Angel. Does it make you feel anything, think of anything, any distant memory, anything at all?”

Wesley frowned in confusion. “I’m sorry, what? Angel? Well, erm…Christmas angels perhaps. And the celestial kind, if one believes in that sort of thing. I don’t know what you want me to say Seeley, am I missing something?”

Booth shook his head. “No. Forget it. Nothing.” He felt black and depressed. He moved off of Wesley and smoothed his hair down. 

Wesley sat up, his chest burning with embarrassment. He didn’t know what he had done wrong, but he was half naked on a virtual stranger’s couch and wished more then anything he could sink through the floor and disappear. “Well, yes.” He began, quickly getting himself dressed, missing a button hole, stopping, fixing it, and standing up. “I have some work to do at home, so I think I will be going. Thank you for dinner. Let me know if you have any progress on the case.” Wesley grabbed his jacket and tried not to run for the door.

Booth followed him. “Wes….please, don’t go, okay? I’m sorry. Let me try to explain.”

Wesley shook his head, feeling the hot tears behind his eyes and determined not to let them spill while he stood in the apartment. “It’s late. I’ll talk to you another time. Goodnight.” He threw open the door and rushed out into the hallway.

Leaning on the doorframe, Booth realized following him was only going to scare him off more. He hit the wood, furious with himself. God, he fucked this up royally. He was going to have to make it up to Wesley. How, he had no clue, but he would, someway, somehow.

He shut the door and wandered into the kitchen to pour another glass of wine, berating himself for his stupidity. When the bottle was empty, he felt half-drunk, and dizzy, but not much better. He dropped the wine glass in the sink, smiling sadly as he spotted Wesley’s wrist watch. He held it in his hand, watching the seconds hand tick, and started practicing an apology speech over and over again until he got it just right. 

_To be continued…_


	3. three

Seeley stood apprehensively on the stairs, the rain spitting down on his head and shoulders as patrons pushed past him, umbrellas aloft. His fingers stroked at the leather band in his pocket, as they had done for almost a week now, as he waffled back on forth on what he should do, what he wanted to do, and if those two things were the same. 

Bones had talked his ear off most of the week, excited over her research into modern peoples’ beliefs in ancient magic, how the magic purportedly practiced during the homicide differed from tribal magic she was familiar with and the nature of peoples’ susceptibility. He listened to most of it, it was interesting, but his thoughts always returned to Wesley, how he felt in his arms, how soft and yielding his mouth was, his laugh, even the way he held his fork when eating. Seeley knew he had it bad. 

“Now or never.” He told himself, walking into the front doors and letting the warm air caress him. He shivered slightly, uncomfortable at being soggy, but still finding some small thrill deep inside at how human it made him feel. He saw Wesley at the front desk, answering a question and showing a co-worker some of the new acquisitions he was sifting through. Seeley waited until the woman had wandered off to help a student before approaching.

“Here.” He said quietly, sliding the watch across the counter, not quite daring to touch Wesley’s fingertips. 

Wesley looked up in surprise. He hadn’t even heard Seeley approaching. His cheeks colored slightly and he took the watch, passing it from one hand to the other for a minute before slipping it onto his wrist. “Thank you.” He answered evenly, glancing up for a second before refocusing on the counter.

The stood in silence for another minute, each having so much to say, but unable to say it. As it had been with them before, in the other life. Seeley reached across the counter impulsively, taking Wesley’s hand. “It suits you, I’m glad I could return it to its rightful owner.”

Wesley said nothing.

Seeley shifted his weight. “Look, Wes, I’m sorry. I was an ass. I screwed up. Can you give a guy a second chance? Even a dummy like me? I’d like to take you out to dinner; you won’t even have to eat my cooking. Come on, please?” He made his best puppy dog eyes at the other man.

Wesley looked up, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Pulling out all the stops, I see.” He answered, pressing his glasses up further on his nose. “Alright. I am free tonight. I’m sure my Ramen noodles will keep another day.” 

Seeley grinned broadly, resisting an urge to yank Wesley over the counter and drag him into the stacks. “Great. Sounds good. We can talk about the case, if you want. We made some progress.”

Wesley nodded, gently pulling his hand away and turning to help a student check out a book. “My shift is over at 6:00.”

Seeley bounced in his wet shoes like an overgrown puppy. “Should I bring flowers?”

Wesley rolled his eyes at Seeley and made a shooing gesture, but he was smiling. Seeley’s heart felt lighter then it had in a week and he took his leave, spending the rest of the day burying himself in paperwork that needed his attention, hoping his shoes would dry in time on the space heater under his desk. 

*~*

At 5:59 Seeley stood outside the library, watching the pink clouds gather overhead, promising a sunny day tomorrow. His palms were sweaty. He was nervous, hoping Wesley hadn’t changed his mind. 

He felt a light touch on his shoulder and the lilt of a British voice. “What are you hungry for?” 

Seeley closed his eyes a second, the heat of arousal starting to grip him. But he didn’t want to scare Wesley any more then he had last time. “Anything you are.” He answered, turning and leaning forward to peck Wesley’s cheek. “I’m easy. Let me just let my office know that I am not available tonight, except for emergencies.” He opened his cell phone, and then frowned. “Fuck. I didn’t recharge it. Come on; let me plug it in in my car.”

They walked to the parking lot and Wesley waited while Seeley rummaged through the trunk. He stood up and looked at Wesley sheepishly. “I must have left the recharger at home. I was in such a hurry this morning…damn it, I’m sorry. I have to stop and get it. Bones will kill me if she can’t get in touch to tell me about what they do with goat’s blood in New Guinea.” He smirked at Wesley’s face. “Don’t ask. Come on, we’ll take my car and I’ll drop you back here later. I want all the time with you I can get.” 

Seeley turned on the radio, located a jazz station, and slipped his hand across the seat to hold Wesley’s while they drove to his apartment. “So, you were saying there was a breakthrough on the case?” Wesley asked, his voice high with emotion.

Seeley caressed Wesley’s soft fingers. “Yeah. We confirmed that both of the men were working for Wolfram and Hart, that’s a law firm, got ties all over the globe, into everything. Crooked too. Not that we can prove it. Both men were working in different departments, but obviously there was something to be gained for being the first suck up toady to get the book to their boss. Worth killing for. Definitely black magic, but Bones says it was just the suggestion that killed them, caused a heart attack. Probably what will go in the report. Not like too many people believe that kind of stuff unless they dress up like Elves on weekends in the woods, ya know?” He turned another corner, sliding through traffic effortlessly. “Gives us access to the firm anyway, I’m hoping we can get a warrant to look through some of their files, get them on something. Otherwise they’ll weasel out, pay off the families and go back to stealing souls for Satan. Either way, I think you might want to look into another place to store those books, like a safety deposit box, or anyplace you aren’t. I don’t want you to get hurt by the next flunky that tries to get brownie points.” He glanced over at Wesley. “Don’t like it when you are hurt, Wes.”

Seeley parked the car and shut off the engine, holding the keys in his hand. “I’ll just be a second. …You want to come up for a drink first?” He blurted.

Wesley looked at him squarely, surprise in his big blue eyes, and something behind it, warm and willing. “Perhaps just a small one.” He said, swallowing hard and letting go of Seeley’s hand to open the car door. 

They barely made it into the apartment, Seeley shoving the keys in hard enough to break, and tossing them on the counter, not caring as they skittered off and fell onto the kitchen floor. He crushed Wesley’s body against the door, slamming it shut in the process; hands reaching under his shirt and letting his palms explore the planes of Wesley’s chest. The lights flickered to life all over the apartment. “Security thing.” Seeley started to explain, abandoning the explanation before he had begun as it was obvious Wesley didn’t give a damn about his good deal with the alarm company. Wesley’s breathy moaning in his ear was making him hard enough to come in his pants right then and there, and he had to pull away a moment, trying to collect himself. Wesley’s eyes were wide with desire and Seeley couldn’t find it in himself to slow this down anymore. “Bedroom’s over there.” He said hoarsely, ticking his head sideways.

Wesley nodded, and started walking in that direction. Seeley growled, low in his throat, suffused with a need so deep it consumed every part of him. He grabbed Wesley, pulling him into a bruising kiss and walking him backwards to the bedroom, laying both of them back on the bed and working his belt buckle undone as he tried to pull off Wesley’s shirt. They fumbled with their clothes together, bits and pieces ending up all over the place and one of Wesley’s socks requiring a ten minute search the next day that had Wesley peeved and Seeley trying not to smirk. “Are you sure?” Seeley breathed into Wesley’s ear, sliding him up further on the bed.

“Bloody well sure.” Wesley answered, tugging at the back of Seeley’s neck to pull him closer. 

“Finally.” Seeley sighed, sliding his mouth down Wesley’s neck as he reached for the bedside lamp, clicking it off and bathing them in the soft glow from the streetlights outside. “Finally.”

To be continued...


	4. four

To Shanshu in DC - part 4

Seeley woke the next morning, Wesley butted up against him, snoring softly into the pillow, his face guileless and beautiful, his mouth set in a soft, pleased curve. Seeley ran his fingertips over the lines of Wesley’s shoulder, hoping not to wake him yet. He didn’t have to be at work until noon today because it was Saturday, and hoped Wesley didn’t either. 

He slipped from the bed quietly, intent on making this first morning special, padding into the bathroom to shower and put on his robe before venturing into his kitchen and poking in the refrigerator to see what he had. Seeley balanced bread and eggs and milk and hoped he could impress Wesley with his breakfast culinary skills. A half hour later he balanced a tray of scrambled eggs, toast points, marmalade, tomato juice, coffee and tea, and brought it into the bedroom. “Wake up sleepyhead.” He called out quietly; watching with undisguised pleasure as Wesley groped on the nightstand for his glasses, slipped them on, ran a hand through his hair to smooth it, and smiled up at him. 

“Breakfast, for me?” Wesley said in a happily surprised tone, sitting up and tucking the blankets around him. 

Seeley joined him on the bed. “Yep. I don’t see anyone else here.”

Wesley chuckled, sipping at the juice. “I should hope not. But I will share with the handsome FBI agent that made my dreams so pleasant.” 

Seeley laughed back, taking the coffee and adding milk, then putting in two splashes in the tea cup for Wesley before he opened his mouth. “How did you know how I wanted my tea?” Wesley asked, blowing on the hot drink, amusement in his eyes. 

Seeley shrugged. “That’s why I’m a special agent.” He said casually, intending to not be as stupid as to bring up the past again, or how many, many mornings he had watched Wesley perform his tea preparation ritual before diving into work.

Wesley picked up the marmalade and opened the jar. “I adore this brand. I wouldn’t have pegged you as a marmalade user. I guess we have a lot to learn about each other.”

Seeley nodded. He had bought the marmalade at the market on a whim because it was Wesley’s favorite and had developed a liking for it. He dipped his finger in the jar and wiped a bit on Wesley’s nose, leaning forward and licking it off. “Tastes even better now.” He teased. He dipped his finger in to do it again, but Wesley was ready and grabbed his wrist. “My turn.” He purred, wrapping his warm mouth around Seeley’s finger and sucking it slowly clean. 

“Mmm…Wes, not the best way to convince me to let you finish eating.” Seeley murmured, pulling him closer into a sticky kiss. 

“Not that hungry…for food.” Wesley replied despite his grumbly tummy. Plenty of time to eat later when they inevitably had to part. 

Seeley placed the tray on the nightstand and picked up the marmalade, raising an eyebrow at Wesley. “I don’t think we are quite done with this, though. Lay back.”

Wesley scooted down on the bed and pushed back the blankets. “This will ruin me for eating marmalade at my mum’s.” He almost giggled.

Seeley placed gentle kisses on Wesley’s chest and stomach. “Tell her to serve strawberry jam.” Was his reply as he scooped a generous amount of marmalade out of the jar and found that it did taste better on an eager lover then toast points any day of the week. 

~*~

The days folded one into another, turning into weeks before either of them realized it. At first it was the impassioned romps on Seeley’s bed, sofa and kitchen table, then dinners out, a local play, two walks in the botanical gardens, a movie neither enjoyed except for the necking in the dark cinema, daily lunch dates and text messaging that Seeley had to beg Angela to help him with. To her credit she said nothing teasing, just smiled and helped, saying she was glad for him. 

They walked back to Seeley’s apartment one night after getting espressos at Starbucks, their gait slow and matched, enjoying each other’s company with less frenetic sexual energy, but more soul satisfying joy. Seeley was sure that Wesley completed him, was the missing thing he needed, always had been, even when he was Angel. He hung up their coats on the rack as Wesley slid onto a barstool in the kitchen and drank his coffee, watching Seeley turn on the stereo. “What’s going on tonight with you?” He asked with a smile. “You are like a caged tiger. Tell me what you are thinking, is it about the case, has there been a breakthrough for your office? It’s been quiet at the library now that all the police presence is gone.” 

Seeley fingered the box in his pocket. “No, there is a bunch of stalling. Wolfram and Hart own a lot of people in the government, red tape big as an elephant’s ass. Gonna take more time. We’ll get them, eventually.”

Wesley leaned his elbows on the counter. “Stop playing with the buttons and come talk to me. I know it’s something.”

Seeley abandoned his mission to perfect the treble and walked up to Wesley, smiling nervously. “I have a gift for you.” 

Wesley smiled back. “What’s the occasion? My birthday isn’t for months.”

Seeley nodded. “Yeah. But it’s been a month since I came back to the library to give you your watch. It’s kinda like our anniversary.”

Wesley laughed gently, tousling Seeley’s hair playfully. “The big FBI man is quite sentimental, one of the things I adore about you.” 

Seeley pulled the box out of his pocket and pressed it into Wesley’s hand. “Here.” He said, too nervous to tease back. 

Wesley opened the small, white box, and looked up at Seeley with a curious frown. “A key?”

“Yeah, to my apartment. Well, your apartment too. If you want. I do. I want you to move in here.” Seeley said, trying to come off casual, like he didn’t care either way, but his heart was in his throat.

Wesley fished in his pocket for his key chain and slipped the gold key onto it. “Yes. I’d like that. Very much.” He said emotionally, wrapping his arms around Seeley. “I love you.”

Seeley closed his eyes, tears threatening to spill behind his lids. “I love you too, Wes. More then you know.”

“I’ll love you twice as much if you do all the heavy lifting when I move.” Wesley whispered in his ear, holding him tighter.

“Fat chance, I want to watch you bend over.” Seeley retorted, tickling Wesley’s sensitive ribs, and laughing at the yelp he got out of his boyfriend. 

“You need the exercise; you are the one with the donut problem.” Wesley said, leaning back to poke Seeley’s stomach.

Seeley grabbed his stomach. “Are you calling me a chubby cop Wes, ‘cause you are treading on thin ice.” He said with mock indignation.

Wesley feigned shock. “Me? I would never, ever do that! Not that a little more exercise of something other then your jaw muscles wouldn’t do you good. You should take karate with me. It would be fun.”

Seeley snorted. He had seen Wesley’s karate moves. “I think I’d rather get my exercise other ways.”

Wesley raised his eyebrows. “Pray tell, because flipping the telly remote doesn’t count either.”

“You are asking for it Wes.” Seeley answered, grabbing Wesley’s’ hips and starting to kiss him hungrily. 

“Do I have to ask?” Wesley queried as they came up for air. 

“I kinda like when you beg.” Seeley said, taking Wesley’s hand and heading towards the bedroom. “Come on, we have to christen the bed.”

“We’ve done quite a bit of that already, I believe.” Wesley laughed, high and clear and happy. 

“No, it’s our bed now, for real, it’s different.” Seeley said, nipping at Wesley’s chin and working on his shirt buttons.

“Mmm…true.” Wesley agreed. “Ours.” They fell back on the bed together and in a tangle of limbs and murmured endearments, celebrated their first month together. 

~*~

The nightmares started soon after. 

Seeley watched Wesley slowly become gray with lack of sleep, and was alarmed at how much weight he was losing. “Work is stressful, exams for the students, extra duties.” Wesley said, pushing off Seeley’s concern, saying he was fine. 

Seeley pushed harder, scared of losing Wesley, scared of what was happening. Finally one night Wesley told him about the dreams. Dreams about Seeley as a vampire, dreams of a baby being ripped from his arms, dreams of feeling himself dying in rain soaked grass alone. Seeley’s stomach clenched tight, fully aware that Wesley was remembering the time before, but didn’t know what it meant. He didn’t understand why. The Oracles had been clear that Wesley wouldn’t remember and couldn’t remember. Seeley held him close and told him to get some rest, that he would watch over him. With a heavy heart he listened to Wesley whimper in his sleep, turning over and over, leaving both of them feeling burdened and hung over by dawn’s light. Seeley dropped Wesley off at work after he unsuccessfully argued with Wesley about taking the day off, and headed towards the Lincoln Memorial. 

He had thought the Oracles would be angry to see him, and had prepared for it with buying the nicest fake Rolex he could find from a guy in the parking lot. The woman watched the second hand tick with undisguised amusement and then turned to him. “We know why you have come. We have seen what is happening. We can not help.”

Seeley crossed his arms. “Can’t or won’t?”

The woman smiled indulgently at him as if he was a stupid child. “Can’t. This is your doing. You have created a rift in the order of things. You and Wesley were not supposed to be together in this reality. When you fell in love, your souls mated. Your soul is not different, it is the same soul carried by Angel. His soul was the Wesley he always was. The joining of the two caused a bleed. His old life is coming back to him in bits and pieces.”

Seeley chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking it over. “Okay. Fine. I’ll just tell him, make him understand what’s happening. Tell him we are supposed to be together, always have been. I can help him deal.” 

His relief was short lived when the man turned sad eyes on him. “We are sorry. That is not what will occur. That Wesley died and has long been dust in time. When this reality’s Wesley remembers all of it, the entire life and death he had before, he will die in this time too.”

“No! I won’t lose him! I won’t!” Seeley shouted, moving forward to grab the Oracles, shake some other answer out of them. 

The woman raised a pale, perfect hand, stopping him with some otherworldly power from coming closer. “This is your choice. If you cease all relations with the man, he has a chance of returning to his life here. The bond must be broken, for him to survive.” 

Seeley shook his head, a deep, lost sob escaping his lips. “Either I give up Wesley for good, stop him from loving me, or he’ll die?” 

The Oracles nodded calmly. “These are the options. Free will is yours, human. Do as you must.” With a flash of light he was once again outside the monument, pushing his fists into his eyes, feeling madness creeping at the corner of his mind as guilt overwhelmed him. 

Seeley wrapped his arms around himself and walked back to his car, driving on autopilot back home. He walked around the empty apartment, feeling Wesley in every part of it, his heart and soul cracking under the weight of his decision. Tell Wesley he didn’t love him, to protect him, or tell him who he was before, and hope to find a way to save him from the fate told by the Oracles. 

Hours passed. He heard Wesley’s key in the door and stood up from the couch. Wesley smiled at him tiredly and kissed his cheek, shutting the door behind him. Seeley took a deep breath, his decision made. “Wesley, we have to talk.”

To be continued…


End file.
